


The Lone Ace

by itallstartedwithharry



Series: We're a Team [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 12:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13235862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itallstartedwithharry/pseuds/itallstartedwithharry
Summary: Kent Parson has an incredible life.





	The Lone Ace

Kent Parson has an incredible life. Brilliant athlete, striking good looks, and rolling in a professional athlete’s salary. From the Memorial Cup win in which he shared co-MVP to being the first pick of the 2009 NHL Entry Draft to winning a Stanley cup, Kent’s journey had been fast and highly publicized. His customary smirk and wink had been plastered across TV screens and sports magazines alike with dramatic headlines.

_First pick kid rookie “Aces” first game!_

_Parson Game Winner - Best Play of the Night_

_Captain of the Aces hangs on with a 31-game point streak!_

_Kent Parson in another Aces record_

There were images of him surrounded by his teammates during a celly, lifting up shiny trophies in a victory lap around the ice. 

_Another hat trick for Aces Captain_

_ACES WIN STANLEY CUP IN CLOSE FINAL GAME_

_Kent Parson takes home the Calder Memorial Trophy_

Then there were the occasional gossip rags or lesser headlines he liked to ignore. The ones he pretended didn’t exist.

_Aces win with dirty play by Parson_

_Captain Parson gets wasted at college frat!_ (which was bullshit, Kent had barely been at Samwell for 30 minutes)

_Is Kent Parson the wonder kid overrated?_

And lastly, there were the headlines that didn’t exist, except for the occasional nightmare. The headlines he feared for their finality.

_Kent Parson a Queer?_

_5 signs Parson got fucked before an Aces loss_

_Twinks in the NHL? Why fans think Parson should go_

_Parson and Zimmermann: Who turned the other? How deep did the drug scandal go?_

_Was the Calder win just a diversity play?_

_Serious check lands Parson in hospital_

_Gay-bashing ends Kent Parson’s career_

***

Kent Parson has an incredible life. And he says so, in plenty of interviews. What he doesn’t say - what he can’t say - is what eats him alive inside. 

It was the things he didn’t do: 

He didn’t think. During those years of exhilarating hockey, side-by-side with a boy whose eyes saw the game as if their minds were in sync. When every second of secret kisses and gasps and hands on bodies felt like a shot of adrenaline. They had the world and they had each other. Fuck the world and fuck the rules; they were better and stronger than that. They had pucks hitting the net and long glances through their face shields. They had booze and music and parties and each other. And pills. But Kent didn’t think.

An enabler, he learned later. That’s what his therapist would call him.

It was the things he did do:

He spoke to hurt people. He pushed them into a corner. He found their weakness and threw a dart.

“You can be done with this shitty team.”

“You’re scared everyone else is going to find out you’re worthless, right?”

“I’m sure that’ll make your dad proud.”

He spoke the things he wished weren’t true.

“I miss you.”

He spoke the things that he was scared of, throwing his own fear onto others.

“Afraid I’ll tell them something?”

It was the things he had no control over:

He had been shut out. His best friend, boyfriend (were they ever boyfriends?), and lover had pushed him out of his life without warning or closure. The worry, fear, resentment, guilt, and anger had festered over years and formed a chip on his shoulder that would take even longer to address and heal. 

He was gay. Always had been, always would be. In a career that had no space or acceptance for any deviation from the status quo. 

***

Being knocked out of the cup meant pressure was off. Or at least for Kent, it was only temporarily dulled, already building for the season ahead. He could say at least, it was with minimal resentment that he watched Zimms - _Jack_ \- fight in his first NHL finals. But with that final shot going in, the whistle blowing, the bar going wild around him, Kent could have sworn it was back in the Q days. The “Zimmermann-Parson No-Look One-Timer” days. But instead of Jack’s exhilarated blue eyes staring at him when Kent glanced to the right, it was the obnoxious howling of drunk patrons. He took the final sip of his gin and tonic, sighing out any residual negativity as the blue, yellow, and white confetti rained down onscreen. A smile twitched at the edge of Kent’s mouth, seeing the winning team yell, celebrate, and hug each other in jubilation. The cup came out, and Kent’s teammates began to reminisce about their own time under the cup. He let it all fade to a buzz in the background, letting the ice swirl around into the glass as another Falconer lifted up the cup in victory.

“Uhhh, hey Parser. You see this?”

Kent sighed, Scraps could be glued to his phone sometimes. “It’s on the screens, Scraps.”

With concerned eyes, he gestured with his phone. “Naw, look. It’s all over social…”

Kent took the phone, and his world stopped. Jack, on the ice - his home ice - in front of fans, reporters, and players alike…was locked in a passionate embrace with a slender yet muscular blonde. A blonde _man_. 

Jack was out. Jack just came out.

Jack, the anxious careful planner, just came out without saying a word. 

As Kent’s heart raced, the words around him became clearer, already cutting into him.

“So he’s gay or whatever? Jesus Christ.”

“Can’t do anything fuckin’ regular.”

“Bet he’s real excited ‘bout that parade.”

_Heh!_

_Hah_

_HAHAHA_

The laughter was at odds with Kent’s racing heart, with his dry mouth. Even as Carl was shut up (by Swoops? Scraps?), Kent couldn’t tear his eyes away from the kiss on the phone. Stills and gifs, from all different angles. And Jack practically glowing with love in every one.

On the bar’s TV Kent could vaguely recognize Bad Bob’s Canadian accent, beaming with pride for his son. Jack had won it all, it seemed. The cup, the boy, and his father’s love - though Kent had known all along that Jack had never lost the latter. 

“Hey, you alright?” Scraps’ voice was quiet. He reached out for the phone, fingers brushing Kent’s accidentally. Fear shot through Kent like lightning and he practically dropped the phone into his glass before handing it over. Suddenly the small things he had conditioned himself to power through began to bloom in his mind, the not-headlines feeling more and more possible. 

But more than the fear (and there was fear), he tried to identify the predominant emotions running through his mind. There was a pang that the blonde boy wasn’t him, no matter that he tried to deny it. There was jealousy that Jack was clearly surrounded by a more supportive group than himself, that the idea of kissing another man on the ice was even conceivable to him. There was awe, that this was finally happening in the NHL. But what was strongest was a sudden and deep hole in his chest. A feeling of loneliness that almost surprised him with its ferocity; a despair that rocked him him to his core. What did it mean if he couldn’t pass off his being alone as a necessary evil of being in the NHL?

“Man, what a game, right?” He heard himself say as he stood up, trying to force the smirk to appear natural. “You better get your asses in gear so we can hold that cup again, yeah?”

The drunken yells provided him an easy exit, pointing and nodding towards a couple guys that slapped him on the shoulder or hollered out to their captain. 

“Hey man!” Swoops jogged up to him, his gaze more knowing than Kent would like “Take care of yourself, alright?” 

“Sure man, see you ‘round, yeah?” Kent was still half-turned towards the door. He needed to be at home with Purrs so he could process this without an audience. With one last glance over his shoulder, he saw the kiss once again on the big screen, blue and brown eyes brimming with joy and love. Sighing, Kent turned towards his apartment, thankful it was only a five minute walk away.

Kent Parson has an incredible life; a complicated life. And it was about to get more complicated, whether he wanted it to or not.

**Author's Note:**

> After ages of literally no inspiration, I randomly get the urge on New Year's Eve to write about Kent Parson! I really do want to write more, I swear. We'll see what 2018 brings me for inspiration, time, and energy! I'm still working full time while getting a Master's Degree so a lot is happening!
> 
> As always, feel free to visit me on tumblr! Thanks for reading <3


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